


Flight

by sevenfists



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pern Fusion, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Flight (Dragonriders of Pern)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 05:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20286271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfists/pseuds/sevenfists
Summary: Zhenya planned his escape carefully.





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one for honeycombhenry. It's been many, many years since I read any of the Pern books, so kindly ignore any canon errors I made.

Zhenya planned his escape carefully. After a solid week confined to the Weyr, waiting for Etoth to rise for her first mating flight, he was ready to crawl out of his skin. How long would it take? He would be old and gray by the time she rose. Tailli, the Weyrwoman, kept telling him it would happen any day now, but she didn’t know any better than anyone else did. 

Princess, his fire lizard, perched on the back of his chair and watched disapprovingly as he stuffed his pack with the cheese and fruit he had been hoarding. “Don’t give me that look,” he said. “I know you’re as bored as I am.”

Her eyes whirled, and she whistled at him. He chose to take that as agreement.

The Weyr was quiet at this hour of the morning. Etoth had woken early and gone to feed, hungry the way she always was lately, and now she was bathing in the lake. Zhenya passed a few people on his way to find her, but he wasn’t doing anything suspicious, and nobody questioned him. He was the Weyr’s third and most junior goldrider, but his status still gave him the freedom to go where he wanted. Usually. 

Etoth was happy. The rising sun was warm on her back and her belly was full with a good meal, but there was also something else making her happy that Zhenya couldn’t discern until he drew close enough to see that the figures beside Etoth on the shore of the lake were Sid and his brown Oraveth.

Zhenya’s footsteps slowed even as his heart warmed with pleasure. Etoth wouldn’t want to leave with Sid and Oraveth there to pay attention to her, and Zhenya knew he had a narrow window of opportunity before Tailli sent someone out to look for him. He needed to be gone by the time the Weyr came awake. Sid would foil his plans.

Unless he could convince Sid to go with him.

“Morning,” Sid said to him, smiling, as Zhenya drew near. He was stretched up on his toes to scratch Etoth’s eye ridge as Oraveth rolled in a sand wallow behind them, thoroughly coating his wet hide. Etoth informed Zhenya that Sid was doing a very good job of scratching, and he spared a moment to bask in his fondness for her. She had been magnificent since her hatching, and now that she was nearing her full growth, Zhenya thought there wasn’t a more splendid queen in any Weyr.

“Good morning,” he said, his boot heels sinking into the damp sand as he approached the water’s edge. On his shoulder, Princess mantled her wings and hissed. She was horribly spoiled and horribly protective of Zhenya, and she hated Sid. Zhenya found her antipathy amusing but also really inconvenient, because he wanted to be around Sid as much as possible, and Princess always made a fuss.

“Oh, it’s like that, eh?” Sid said. He dug in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a bit of sweetmeat, which he offered to Princess. She hissed at him again, but then lifted from Zhenya’s shoulder long enough to daintily pluck the treat from Sid’s fingers.

“Next time she’ll take a chunk out of your hand,” Zhenya said as Princess settled again, muttering happily to herself.

Sid laughed. “I’ll take that risk. She’s warming up to me, I think.” He patted Etoth’s massive jaw. “This one’s a little flaky behind her front leg, looks like.”

“Always growing,” Zhenya said, which made Etoth protest that she was _meant_ to grow and was only doing her best. Zhenya reached up to scratch the eye ridge that Sid hadn’t tended to, which was terribly itchy. He had oil in his pack and would rub her down thoroughly as soon as they were away from the Weyr. He couldn’t spare the time for it now.

“You’re up early,” Sid said, eyeing Zhenya’s pack. “Off somewhere?”

“You know I can’t,” Zhenya said. “Trapped here until this lady decides it’s time.” Princess left him to perch on Etoth’s dorsal ridge, her favorite spot, and began digging her claws into a particularly itchy patch along Etoth’s back.

“Probably soon,” Sid said. He turned his head to check on Oraveth’s progress, squinting into the sun. “Have you, uh. You have any preferences about who flies her?”

Coming from anyone else, the question would have infuriated Zhenya. Coming from Sid, it gave him hope. Sid was far too polite to ask about something so personal, which meant it wasn’t a casual question but something he had thought about at length and desperately wanted the answer to. 

As quickly as Zhenya’s heart had lifted, it came sinking back down to earth. His hopes were baseless and would come to nothing. Oraveth was a stolid, hard-working dragon, but he was only of average size for a brown, and probably nowhere near big enough to hold his own against the bronze dragons who would compete for Etoth’s favor. Zhenya’s attachment to Sid and Etoth’s affection for Oraveth couldn’t overcome the simple facts of biology. And that assumed Sid would even want to make the attempt.

Zhenya didn’t object to any of the Weyr’s bronze riders. All of them were decent men, and Zhenya would do his duty. He was sure he wouldn’t mind, in the heat of the moment. He would probably even enjoy it.

“It’s not up to me,” he said to Sid. “I’ll let Etoth take her pick.” He ran his hand down the wide bridge of Etoth’s muzzle, smiling as she pushed into his touch. She had watched Hosith’s flight a few months ago and thought it would be great fun to play chase with every bronze.

“I’m sure she’ll choose well,” Sid said. Their eyes met across Etoth’s head. In the six months they had known each other, since Sid was transferred south from Telgar, Sid had proven himself to be brave, courteous, good-natured, and entirely devoted to the rules. He would never set Oraveth to fly Etoth, because that wasn’t how things were done, and Zhenya wasn’t brave enough to suggest it. Sid would talk with him when they both happened to be in the same place, and he would carry treats for Princess and say flattering things to Etoth, and smile at Zhenya so sweetly that Zhenya’s heart skipped several beats in a row, but none of that necessarily indicated anything beyond simple friendliness on Sid’s part. Zhenya’s private longings had no bearing on reality.

Etoth dropped her nose to prod curiously at Zhenya’s pack. Were they going up to the heights again to watch the clouds? Etoth didn’t mind, although she would much rather stay here and have Zhenya rub oil on her itchy patches and take a long nap.

Zhenya made his decision. At worst, Sid would try to prevent him from going, and Zhenya would get in trouble, which happened at least once a week as it was. At best, he would have a whole day with Sid in the sun.

“Sid, don’t tell on me,” he said. “I’m sneaking off. I have to get out of here. If I spend one more day doing inventory, I’m going run off and join the traders.”

To his credit, Sid didn’t immediately begin bellowing that Zhenya was planning to escape. He folded his arms and said, “What if Etoth rises today?”

Etoth expressed that she had no intention of going anywhere except maybe to the feeding grounds for another meal. Zhenya sent her an image of their favorite beach at the other side of the island, a small cove tucked into the shoreline with a wide expanse of sand that caught the afternoon sun. She allowed that the beach did sound pleasant.

“It won’t be today,” Zhenya said, with more confidence than he felt. “I want to go look for fire lizard eggs.” He pretended to examine a spot on Etoth’s foreleg and told himself to take this one chance to be brave. “You could come with me. I’d like it if you would.”

He glanced up, not sure how Sid would take this invitation. To his delight, Sid’s cheeks had grown faintly pink, and he was smiling. “I’d like that, Zhenya, but—you know you aren’t supposed to leave the Weyr.”

“I’m going with or without you,” Zhenya said boldly. “You know you can’t stop me.”

“No,” Sid said. “I can’t.” His crooked smile widened. “Fire lizard eggs, eh?”

“My brother wants one,” Zhenya said. He didn’t see his family much anymore, but on his last visit home, Denis had spent so much time trying to court Princess’s affections that Zhenya wanted to give him a fire lizard of his own. “And the beach is really nice.”

“Oh, in that case,” Sid said.

\+ + +

Leaving was easier than Zhenya had anticipated. A quick flight over the Weyr’s ancient caldera rim to the feeding grounds on the outer slopes attracted no attention, and after another meal, Etoth was amenable to the prospect of an outing. She shared their destination with Oraveth, and from there it was a simple matter of slipping off into a copse of trees, taking flight, and going _between_.

After three heartbeats in the unending frigid darkness, Zhenya and Etoth came out again into the sunlight: high above the cove, gliding on a warm thermal. A quick glance behind him showed that Sid and Oraveth had followed. Zhenya motioned toward the beach, gesturing with the full length of his arm, and Sid held his hand above his head to show that he understood. Message received.

The cove was still shaded at this time of day. Zhenya brought Etoth down right at the water’s edge, and she splashed into the waves without giving him time to dismount. He laughed as the spray hit his face. The surf was warm on Etoth’s underbelly. She wanted to go for a swim.

“Let me down first, please,” he told her, patting her neck, and she waded onto the shore to let him clamber down.

Sid had already dismounted. He smiled at Zhenya as Oraveth gamboled into the water to join Etoth. “Where are these eggs of yours?”

“Not _my_ eggs,” Zhenya said. “You’ve never done this?” Sid was Weyr-bred; surely he had been on egg hunts, at least in his youth.

But Sid shook his head. “Not many fire lizards around Telgar. You’ll have to show me.”

In Zhenya’s experience, fire lizards liked to nest along the treeline. He and Sid tromped through the dry shifting sand. The dragons had begun pouncing around in the shallows, trying to catch fish. Zhenya wasn’t surprised when Princess popped out of _between_ directly in front of him, squawked loudly, and reclaimed her position on his shoulder. Her tail wrapped around his neck. Etoth always told her where they were going, but she liked to make the trip on her own time or not at all, as the mood struck her.

“Look who decided to join us,” Sid said dryly, and Princess hissed at him.

Zhenya petted her soothingly. “He didn’t mean it, my love.”

Sid shook his head, smiling. “She’s spoiled.”

“She was the runt of her clutch,” Zhenya said. “Scrawny little green thing. I didn’t think she would live. I might have spoiled her.”

“By far the most pampered fire lizard I’ve encountered,” Sid agreed. “You’ve done good work.”

Zhenya kicked some sand at him, too pleased by Sid’s presence and attention to mind the teasing. And pleased by the teasing, too.

They strolled along beneath the trees, Zhenya with a stick in one hand that he used to gently poke at every likely-looking mound of sand. He found one nest that was empty, collapsed in, with some bits of eggshell scattered around it: recently hatched. Another looked like a tunnel snake had gotten it to it first and cleared it out. Princess flew down to inspect that one, her eyes whirling with distress, and would only be soothed with several more sweetmeats produced from Sid’s pocket.

“No luck,” Sid said as they reached the end of the beach. “That’s too bad.”

Zhenya shrugged. There were other beaches, and there would be other days. He was free of the confines of the Weyr, and he had Sid all to himself. As far as he was concerned, the expedition was a huge success. 

He turned to check on the dragons, shading his eyes with one hand. They had paddled out to the mouth of the cove and were bobbing on the waves. There was nothing in the ocean big enough to eat them. At worst, they would drift out to sea and fly back to shore. 

“Are you hungry?” Zhenya asked. He took off his pack and sat down in the shade, leaning back against a palm tree. “I brought food.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a snack,” Sid said. He sat down beside Zhenya and began pulling off his boots. His feet were the clammy, ghostly white so common to dragonriders, who in Zhenya’s opinion vastly underestimated the benefits of going barefoot from time to time, just to air things out. Without looking up from his task, Sid said, “Don’t look at my feet like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Zhenya said, trying to hide his smile via rummaging through his pack. Princess, lazy beast that she was, went _between_ and came out again above the water. Etoth lifted her wings in greeting and let Princess settle on her back.

“Etoth is sweet with her,” Sid said, following Zhenya’s gaze.

“She seems to think Princess is a very small and very stupid dragon,” Zhenya said. “She’s decided to be maternal. I Impressed Princess years ago, and I thought she might be jealous of Etoth. But that hasn’t been the case at all.”

“How did you Impress her?” Sid asked.

Zhenya took two pieces of fruit from his pack and handed one to Sid. “Pure happenstance,” he said, and told Sid the whole story about stumbling across a nest near his family’s cothold in time to see poor Princess struggle from her egg, and the whole aftermath with his parents, who weren’t initially thrilled about the new addition to their household. Sid made a good audience, laughing at the appropriate times and otherwise smiling at Zhenya like this not very interesting story was the highlight of his day.

They shared the cheese, and the meatrolls Zhenya had filched on his way through the Lower Caverns that morning. Sid went into the forest to refill Zhenya’s canteen in a nearby spring. When he came back, Zhenya took off his own boots and dug his feet into the cool sand. The sun had moved overhead, and light filtered through the trees. Etoth had returned to shore and curled into a golden heap for her mid-day nap, with Princess draped over one foreleg. Zhenya felt ready for a nap of his own, and then a swim, and then maybe another nap.

He stripped off his shirt and stuffed it inside his tunic to serve as a pillow. He didn’t glance over at Sid, but he hoped Sid was watching him and liked what he saw. Maybe after Etoth’s mating flight he would be bold enough to offer himself to Sid as a lover. Once he had some experience and could be sure he wouldn’t utterly humiliate himself. As it was, his cheeks burned as he crawled out of the shade to flop belly-down in the sand.

After two years in the Weyr, Zhenya was no longer scandalized by how openly dragonriders slept with anyone they wanted to, but he also didn’t participate. He had held himself apart at first because of his Hold-bred sensibilities, and later because he had learned enough about Weyr politics to know that he didn’t have the same leeway as other riders. He wouldn’t have the Weyr’s most junior queen forever, and an ambitious person could use their association with him for political advantage. He was happy to flirt, but he didn’t want to be seen as favoring anyone in particular. 

He had been reasonably content with this state of affairs until he met Sid, but since then he had wished every day that he wasn’t so inexperienced. But he also knew that he wouldn’t be content with a casual, passing liaison. He liked Sid so much and knew he would get attached. Even if Sid were interested, Zhenya couldn’t offer him sexual fidelity. Sid probably wouldn’t care about that, but Zhenya’s own romantic nature couldn’t bear the thought of giving his heart to Sid and his body to someone else. 

He could fantasize about Sid watching him sunbathe, though. A small daydream wouldn’t do any harm.

“You’ll burn before long,” Sid said.

Zhenya squeezed his eyes shut tight so he wouldn’t look at Sid’s face. “I’ll turn over in a while. Wake me if I fall asleep.”

He didn’t truly expect that he would, but the warmth of the sun on his back and the sound of the water and the slow soft peace of Etoth’s dream all combined to lull him into a doze. After what seemed like only a few seconds, he felt Sid’s hand on his shoulder and turned over, squinting, to see Sid crouched above him.

“You told me to wake you,” Sid said.

“Yeah,” Zhenya said, smiling at him, already sinking back into sleep.

He woke again to Sid’s hand, an urgent grip this time. “Zhenya. Zhenya!”

“I’m awake, what is it,” Zhenya said, wiping—hopefully discreetly—at the drool on his face. He squinted up at Sid, but Sid wasn’t looking at him. His attention was fixed on a point down the beach, and Zhenya followed his gaze to see Oraveth—eating something?

“He got a wherry,” Sid said, his voice tense. “He’s only blooding it.”

“What?” Zhenya said. He sat up. “He’s—”

“Etoth’s going to rise,” Sid said. He gripped Zhenya’s shoulders, his expression as focused as it was during threadfall. “Zhenya! You have to take her back to the Weyr _now_.”

Zhenya’s bafflement washed out of him on a flood of adrenaline. He had miscalculated—but had he? Wasn’t this, after all, exactly what he wanted?

“She’s still asleep,” Sid said, with a glance over his shoulder at Etoth like he needed to confirm for himself that what he said was true. “Wake her and go back to the Weyr right away. Or send Princess with a message. They’ll send the bronzes here—”

“No,” Zhenya said, his heart pounding with how badly he wanted this. “I don’t want them to come.”

Sid’s fingers bit into his shoulders. “You _have_ to. We need her clutch. And she needs to be flown, you know she—”

“Oraveth can fly her,” Zhenya said. 

Sid’s hands loosened. His eyes widened in shock. “What?”

Zhenya used his confusion to clamber awkwardly into Sid’s lap. He was coated in sand and felt entirely constructed of knees and elbows. Sid overbalanced and toppled onto his back, which was fine with Zhenya, because he could keep Sid there and force him to listen. He sat on Sid’s hips and planted both hands firmly on Sid’s chest. “I don’t want any of the bronze riders. And Etoth doesn’t want any of their dragons. I only want you, and I want Oraveth to fly her.”

Everything that had seemed impossible for six months was easy now. There was no room left in him for hesitation or shame. Etoth was stirring, and her blood was hot and hungry. Zhenya stared down at Sid’s wide eyes and pink mouth and felt his own blood turn to fire.

“He won’t be able to catch her,” Sid protested weakly.

“She doesn’t want to be caught,” Zhenya said. He turned his head to meet Etoth’s endless rainbow-swirling gaze. “She wants to fly for a long time, and then when she’s ready, she’ll have him.”

Etoth gave a great cry and launched herself into the air: to find a meal, to eat, and then to fly as fast and far as she could.

“Zhenya,” Sid said, and Zhenya turned back to him, ready to counter more protests. But Sid didn’t argue further. He reached up and dragged Zhenya down for a kiss.

Already they were both too stirred up by their dragons’ growing excitement for the kiss to be gentle. But it was right in every way: Sid’s mouth hot and open against Zhenya’s own, Sid sucking urgently at Zhenya’s lower lip and sliding his tongue against Zhenya’s. Zhenya had been kissed before, but never with such focus and unmistakable desire. Sid’s hands gripped at him, gritty with the sand stuck to Zhenya’s sweat-damp skin. Zhenya could feel Sid’s heart beating powerfully under his hands and he was wild, exultant, ready to—

He reared back. Sid’s hands dropped to his hips. Etoth had caught a wherry and she wanted to devour it, starting with the softest bits. “No,” Zhenya said aloud, using his voice to underscore the force of his will. “Only the blood!”

“Hold her,” Sid said. “Good.” He squeezed Zhenya’s thighs. “Don’t let her eat.”

Etoth was so hungry, but she obeyed Zhenya and only drained the wherry’s blood. He was with her as she flew a short way down the coastline and caught a second wherry, and at his urging drained that one, too. Dimly he felt Sid’s hands stroking his thighs, but most of his attention was with Etoth, holding her back from gorging, so that she could fly fast and far. And he was with her as she called again and took flight: above the beach, above the waves, her wings straining as she gained altitude, climbing high until she was only a small shining point in the air.

Oraveth flew after her: smaller than her, smaller than any bronze, but so determined. Zhenya could sense his resolve through Etoth, and more distantly, at one additional remove, a hint of Sid’s anticipation.

Sid was saying his name. Zhenya dragged some part of his attention back to his own body, enough to focus on Sid’s face and listen to his words. 

“Zhenya,” Sid said, his hands curled around Zhenya’s hips. “I know you’re Hold-bred. Have you ever…”

“No,” Zhenya said, distracted enough by Etoth’s joy in her flight that he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “This is my first time.”

Sid groaned and swore, a very rude word that Zhenya had never heard him use. “Did you—Zhenya, listen to me. Did you bring oil for Etoth?”

“In my pack,” Zhenya said, cupping the warm air beneath his wings with every downstroke, aiming for the clouds up ahead.

“Let me up,” Sid said, and rolled Zhenya onto his side, and gently disentangled Zhenya’s clutching hands from his shirt. He kissed Zhenya’s mouth, which was good, but then he pulled away, which was awful. “We should—Zhenya, I know, I’m sorry. But you’ll be a lot happier if we don’t do this in the sand.”

He had a point. Zhenya stumbled blindly after him as Sid found Zhenya’s pack beneath the tree where they had been sitting and groped around in it until he located the vial of oil. Etoth flew in great loops, craning her neck to check on Oraveth’s progress as he labored along below her. She didn’t want him to fall too far behind.

Sid stood motionless, staring, his head tilted back to scan the sky, even though Etoth and Oraveth were well out of sight by now. His hand gripped the vial. Etoth reached the bottom of her long arc and banked upward again. Zhenya moved closer and tugged Sid’s shirt from his trousers, sliding his hands underneath to touch the soft skin of Sid’s lower back. “Sid—”

“She’s waiting for him,” Sid said quietly, and then he turned and took Zhenya’s hand and led him into the forest.

They didn’t go far. Walking was a challenge for Zhenya, half-blinded by his double vision through Etoth’s eyes, and Sid stumbled a few times, too. Urgency pulsed in Zhenya’s veins. He knew they didn’t have much time left; Etoth couldn’t fly forever, no matter what she thought at the moment, and when she and Oraveth came together, Zhenya and Sid would, too. 

The ground sloped downward. Zhenya stumbled again. Sid said, “Here, sit down,” and Zhenya went to his knees. The earth was springy and soft. Not the earth: plants. Ferns. Sid had found a bed of ferns for him.

“Saw this on my way to the spring earlier,” Sid said. He had taken off his shirt, and Zhenya stared mutely at his wide pale chest, his sturdy body shaped by fighting Thread. Sid glanced at him and smiled. Etoth was climbing, beating her wings, free and jubilant. Sid said, “Maybe you could take off your pants.”

A great idea. Zhenya lay on his back to flounder out of his trousers. It was good to lie down. The ferns were soft and cool beneath him and cushioned him from the hard ground. Now that he didn’t have to worry about walking into a tree, he could sink more fully into Etoth’s mind. She was looking for Oraveth again, thinking that maybe she would drop down to join him; but flying was glorious. The air was perfect blowing across her hide. She might go on forever.

Sid was in Zhenya’s arms, naked and warm, so much of him. Somehow they kissed. Sid’s hand was slippery with oil and he cursed softly, and Zhenya laughed because he was so glad and he dove head-first through a cloud, and Sid was with him and he could fly and fly. Sid’s mouth was on his neck and Sid’s slick fingers were inside him, a strange sensation that Zhenya wasn’t sure he liked.

“I’m sorry, shh,” Sid said, mouthing along Zhenya’s jaw. “It’ll help. I’ll try to make it good for you.”

Zhenya wanted to scoff and say that of _course_ it would be good, because it was Sid, who he trusted more than anyone at the Weyr who wasn’t Etoth. But his attention slid away again. Etoth was dropping now, a slow glide down toward Oraveth, who tilted onto his side with his wings open, inviting her. Oraveth was gentle and forthright and she did like him, and she had flown far enough, maybe.

“Zhenya,” Sid choked out, as Etoth came close enough for her wings to brush Oraveth’s. He rolled onto his back and they sank together, gently, Etoth’s greater wingspan catching the air as they glided above the sea. Their necks twined. Etoth was very pleased with herself, and even more pleased as she slid her body against his, and—

“_Zhenya_,” Sid groaned, as Zhenya arched beneath him, throbbing with sensation. He needed something, although he didn’t know what, but he was certain Sid could give it to him. They would come upon it together, whatever it was.

“Please,” he said, his hands on Sid’s back, trying to pull him closer, although they were pressed together from hip to shoulder. Etoth’s mind was a brilliant blur of pleasure. “Sid, will you—”

Sid’s hand was on his thigh, opening him. Sid’s mouth was hot and open on his throat, panting. And then Sid was pushing into him, a single searing thrust as Zhenya cried out and trembled and spilled on himself, overcome. In that shining moment, he lost himself: he was Etoth and Oraveth and Sid all at once, the four of them bound up together in something he had never imagined, a flight over the waters that went on and on.

Sid bottomed out, buried in him. “I can’t,” he said, “I have to,” and began to move, drawing noises from Zhenya’s mouth that he hadn’t known he could make. He clung to Sid as they moved together, wrapped in their dragons’ uncomplicated pleasure and the cool peace of the forest.

“I’m sorry,” Sid was saying. “Zhenya, I’m sorry.”

Zhenya tightened his legs around Sid’s waist. “You idiot. I feel so good. I’m so happy.”

Sid laughed weakly against Zhenya’s neck. “Yeah?”

“I’m so happy,” Zhenya said, and they went forward together, flying together, until they were both done.

\+ + +

Zhenya woke to the familiar sound of Princess scolding him. He opened his eyes and saw her perched on a branch above him, her wings mantled. But she wasn’t addressing Zhenya: her ire was directed at Sid, who was sitting up and picking bits of fern out of his hair.

“I agree completely,” Sid said to her, and then glanced at Zhenya and said, “You’re awake now?”

“I suppose,” Zhenya said. He stretched, delighting in how Sid watched him for a long moment before turning pink and looking away. 

“How do you, uh. Feel?” Sid asked.

Zhenya took stock. He was gritty with sand and smeared with oil. A dried crust of his own spend itched on his belly. His asshole was swollen and tender, but he had expected that, and it was a small price to pay. “Better if you lie down with me again.”

“Don’t think Princess would be too happy about that,” Sid said, looking up at Zhenya’s irascible fire lizard instead of at Zhenya, who was in far more urgent need of attention. Zhenya sent Princess a stern mental image of Etoth, presently sleeping on the beach with Oraveth, and Princess whistled and went _between_.

“Lie down with me,” Zhenya said. Sid glanced at him again, his mouth drawn into an unhappy line. Zhenya extended a hand to him, and although Sid didn’t take it, he did lie down with Zhenya a moment later and rest his head on Zhenya’s shoulder. Zhenya drew him closer and planted a kiss in his hair, his own heart singing.

“Sorry it was like that,” Sid said quietly. “Wish I could have taken my time with you.”

“Let’s go swim for a while and then we’ll do it again, and you can take as long as you want,” Zhenya said. He had no patience with Sid’s guilt. “Sid, don’t worry about this. It was wonderful for me. It was exactly what I wanted.” 

Sid pushed up onto one elbow so he could look at Zhenya’s face. His expression held every emotion that lay inside Zhenya’s own heart. Zhenya reached up to touch his cheek, and Sid closed his eyes and turned his face into Zhenya’s palm, an unexpectedly vulnerable gesture that turned Zhenya’s insides into a slurry. Sid’s next words were murmured against Zhenya’s skin. “I never thought I could have you.”

The tender longing in his voice made Zhenya ache. “Be my weyrmate,” he said, his heart pounding, because it was a bold offer. “Stay with me.”

Sid kissed his palm, his eyes still shut tight, and then he bent to kiss Zhenya’s mouth. “I won’t ever leave you.”

“All right,” Zhenya said. He held Sid against him and felt Sid’s chest rise and fall as he breathed. Light filtered down through the forest canopy. A bird called somewhere. On the beach, Etoth and Oraveth dreamed of each other. Sid and Zhenya would join them in a while and swim in the cove, and Zhenya would touch him everywhere and find out what they both liked. Eventually they would have to return to the Weyr, and Zhenya would be in truly monumental amounts of trouble. But not yet.

\+ + +

Three months later, Etoth laid a magnificent clutch of thirty-three eggs, including two queens. She was unbearably smug, and so was Sid, as if he’d had anything to do with it.

“Guess that experiment was a success,” Sid said when Zhenya came back to bed in the middle of the night, after Etoth had produced the final egg, and reported the tally. Unbearably smug, but he was warm and had kept the bed warm, and let Zhenya nestle into his arms, so Zhenya was willing to forgive him.

“You should have seen the look on Tailli’s face,” Zhenya said. “She’s going to have to admit that I didn’t ruin everything forever.”

Sid tugged the blankets higher and pressed his smile to Zhenya’s shoulder. “Thirty-three eggs is a lot.”

“I’ll take you to the hatching grounds in the morning,” Zhenya said. “Etoth will be happy to see you. Make sure you tell her how large and beautiful the eggs are. She’s worrying that they’re too small.”

“I’ll tell her every day until they hatch.” Sid kissed Zhenya’s shoulder and then his cheek, awkwardly in the darkness, but as sweet and warm as ever. Zhenya slung an arm around his waist and held him until morning, and until every morning thereafter.


End file.
